


Gravity

by Reibunriinta



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, OC X CANON, Rei trying to be dedicated to something for once asdfgh, Romance, Sham Lash, abuse tw, death tw, magi, oc fic, violence tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 08:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15360771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reibunriinta/pseuds/Reibunriinta
Summary: When an investigation in Parthevia uncovers Shaka’s secret plot to smuggle assassins to protect potential targets in Reim, Ja’far investigates in hopes of finding his long-lost kindred, leading him to a peculiar gladiator and the next stage of his destiny.





	1. The Ring

Sharp ragged breaths stabbed through the space between the warrior’s lips, her face and hands stained by blood’s savor. Sweat fell from all her pores like the energy that was being drawn out of her so completely; dirt and dust streaked her face from the falls she’d taken. Twenty adversaries, she’d already bravely conquered, their unconscious bodies strewn throughout the ring waiting for the match to come to a close.

Five more gladiators to defeat, then Naura would break her record of consecutive victories. She could practically taste her pride as she took a deep breath and adopted a fighting stance. The first of her opponents came charging almost immediately, jumping off of nearby rubble and bearing down on her. Naura had but a split second to tumble to the side as a giant blade came slamming to the ground, creating a loud tanging sound, that rang throughout the arena.

For a moment, she lacked the strength to stand, but already the man was running to deal another blow, this one with even more force than before. The blood rushed in her ears as she stared at the metal that had consumed her vision already, but then she rolled over as quick as a flash and stood immediately. Before the gladiator could turn to fight, she raced forward and slammed into his back, pushing him to the ground. He knocked his head into the dirt and before he could get up she slammed the bottoms of her sandal on his temple, knocking him out cold.

She’d taken too much time on her first opponent, however, and the remaining challengers were charging at her from every direction. She stood her ground as they charged, waiting for some unseen moment.

They were ten paces away, running at full tilt towards her. The crowds of people watching fell silent, wondering what she was up to. Had she finally given up?

Five paces away now. Naura casually wiped the sweat from her brow and tapped her foot impatiently.

“Just give in already you’re outflanked!” the first of the gladiators shouted at her.

She just smiled as they came crashing towards her. “Don’t feel like it,” she said, and then with a wink, she leapt into the air just as they went to tackle her. All four men went slamming into each other with a loud crash, falling to the ground immediately. She didn’t waste an instant landing a punch to the first man’s jaw, sending him to the ground and out of consciousness immediately.

The next man made the mistake of trying to lift his sword again, his hands too covered in sweat to grip the handle. Before he could get a solid grasp on it, she was tackling him again. Once he was out of commission she turned to take on the third warrior, but suddenly she felt something latching onto her ankle, hauling her into the air.

Naura thrashed in the man’s grip, trying to wriggle free as she was held upside down. The blood rushing to her head, and dripping down her face, nearly sent her out of commission all on their own, but suddenly she was being tossed with all possible force. As she arched through the air, she tried to flip herself over to land like a cat on all fours, but instead, she went slamming right into one of the blacked out gladiators. A shooting pain went up her spine as her side made contact with the armor, and when she tried to tilt her head up her whole frame was trembling.

The last two warriors were charging at her full tilt, and she knew that unless she managed to take one of them out before they reached her, she was done for. Her whole body was numb as she watched them approach, biting down on her busted lips and trying to come up with an action plan. As they became even closer to her, she grew desperate and reached her hand out for the closest object. When her hand wrapped around the fallen warrior’s helmet, she made a snap decision.

Eyes narrowing, she quickly measured the speed at which the closest warrior was charging at her. Then, just as they were upon her she cocked her head to the side, spit out her blood as an afterthought, and hurled the helmet at him as hard as she could. The projectile was sloppy at best, but she’d thrown it with enough force that it went barreling into the man’s face, the tip of it cutting into his skin and sending him to the ground.

The crowds began to cheer then, but Naura paid them no mind, she couldn’t afford to get distracted by the glory yet.

“My eyes!” The man shrieked, trying to wipe away the blood that was now streaming down his damp face from the gash on his head. He didn’t attempt to get up again, instead going limp and watching the finale.

The final warrior was still charging, and Naura knew she needed to stand. Grabbing the fallen gladiator’s sword, she used it to pull herself up and had it raised just in time to block an attack.The clanging of sword on sword sent a shockwave up her arms, and she almost dropped it.

Once again metal consumed her vision as the sword went swinging towards her face. Dropping her own sword, she fell to the ground and dealt a harsh kick to the gladiator’s shins, the impact of her legs against the armor sending another shockwave. The man stumbled backwards, and the weight of his sword became too much for him to handle, sending him falling backwards.  As soon as he was on the ground, she dived forward and seized him. Grabbing him by the hair she slammed his head into the dirt with all the force she could muster before bringing her elbow down on his temple.

Finally, the fight was over as the last challenger fell unconscious.  She’d actually done it, she’d defeated all twenty-five of the gladiators she’d been challenged to. The crowds were all screaming, shouting her alias with such a passion it brought a blush to her bruised cheeks.

“Aculeus! Aculeus! Aculeus!”

Standing carefully, she held her hands up and shouted a battle cry, positively beaming at the cheering crowds. Curious then, she strained her swollen eyes to look up to where the announcer was, looking next to him to try and see the only expression that mattered to her.

No sooner than her eyes fell on her love did her stomach lurch, her heart going cold; Cassius Vinicius Lucretius, her only reason for being, was staring down at her in disinterest. He was bored, and when he caught her staring he shook his head and turned away.

Suddenly the crowds did nothing to cheer her, the wounds that had been so numb before catching up to her. Even with all of this, it was the tears stinging her eyes and the ache in her chest that hurt the worse.

She wasn’t enough for him, maybe she never would be.

“Cassius wait!” Her cry for attention was so much more timid than her previous bravado, and her fatigue caught up with her as she lunged forward. Twisting her ankle on the way, she fell straight into the dirt, giving up and lying there as the tears filled her eyes.

“Get a medic over here!”   


Giving up any thoughts of glory then, she stopped fighting it and blacked out. Maybe she was undefeated in the ring, but with her lord’s displeasure, she might as well be.


	2. Her Lord's Cruelty

Ja’far was never particularly fond of Reim. In his time living there, sure good things had happened, and the Sindria trading company building would always be a sort of home for him, but he found the country overall to be brutish and harsh. Coming here again felt something of how he used to feel coming to Reim on a mission, back in his Sham Lash days. 

He was on a mission in fact, and it even had to do with the very past he was stuck musing about now. 

Just a month before he’d received word from Vittel of the results of their team's thorough investigation of the Sham Lash home base and any other known dwelling of its leaders. They still had months of digging to do, but they’d discovered a letter that they’d decoded speaking of a project that Shaka had been doing. 

“You’ll never believe this!” Vittel had said, for a moment looking as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He apparently decided on the former, chuckling a bit bitterly. “Shaka was sending the highest ranking assassins to protect the Reiman figures he knew would eventually be targeted during the war and during the cease-fire. Or at least, he was planning to...fucking traitor.” 

Ja’far listened carefully, pursing his lips. “That’s...well that’s to be expected I suppose.” He looked to the ground a moment, the thought crossing him to just what might have happened to him had he not escaped when he did before he looked back up at his friend. “Do you have any leads? Names of the assassins or who they were being sent to?” 

Vittel nodded. “We just have the one contact, there could be more, but so far it seems that he sent the first assassin about half a year before you killed him. Most likely it’ll be a dead end but well…” 

Ja’far knew how Vittel felt, and despite having buried his past, he still felt the tiniest bit of obligation as former chief, and as the one who made it out of that hell alive. “If there’s even one survivor we haven’t found yet that’s willing to cooperate with us, then they’re worth finding, right?” 

Vittel nodded. “Yeah, of course! Definitely!” 

In the end, it was decided that Ja’far would follow the lead to Reim, and attempt to get what information he could about the failed project, hoping that this might lead to new comrades. Nor was this hope one of naivety, as over the years they’d managed to round up seventeen young ex-assassins, all of which were surprisingly cooperative in creating an elite force in Sindria’s spy network. Really, all it took to persuade most of them was the opportunity for a better life, one with more resource and stimulus. Something about reaching out to his own, and salvaging as many as the abused kids and lost lives as he could, was comforting to Ja’far; it was the next step in his recovery that he hadn’t known he needed. 

Now he was arriving in Reim, and though a day’s journey from Napolia to the neighboring city in which he’d find his lead was bound to tire him out considerably, he was hopeful that he would soon find the answers he was looking for. This wasn’t just an investigation anymore, it was a rescue mission. Either he would save this assassin from the life they led or he’d kill them trying. 

…

“Look at the pathetic mess you’re in!” 

Naura knelt on the floor, keeping her gaze downwards and not daring to look up at Cassius. She’d been patched up thoroughly by the medics and was now covered in bandages. After resting a few hours, she’d been summoned by lord Lucretius, and suddenly she was feeling anxious again. 

“I defeated all twenty-five of your warriors, my lord,” she replied meekly. “In all my years by your side not once have I failed you, sir.” 

“You blacked out as soon as you finished,” he stated coldly. “You’re of no use to me unconscious! If it had been a real attack, I would have been killed the moment you were out of commission! Do you now understand your impertinence?!”

Feeling as though she might cry, Naura nodded and hung her head. “I’m sorry, my lord, it will not happen again.” She whispered, and a few stray tears slid down her cheeks. 

Cassius noted this with a sigh, beckoning to her. “Come here.”

Shakily pulling herself up, she wiped her tears away and stood before where he sat, hanging her head and staring at the floor. She had knots in her stomach still from the rejection, trying so hard not to break down after exhausting herself so tremendously just to be scolded. 

“Why are you crying?” His voice was steady, calculated, unaffected by her sadness.

“I…” Her voice cracked a moment, so she fell silent. “Since coming here I’ve tried my hardest to please you...a-and we used to feel so close. As of these past few years you’ve been demanding impossible things from me.

“You know my loyalty is secure, my lord,” she continued, bringing a hand to her heart to further express the meaning of her words. “My heart, my soul, and my sword all belong to you...and yet I am only a human. I cannot defeat an entire army, that has never been and never will be my purpose, or even within the realms of human ability.”

Cassius stood slowly, inching closer to her and staring at her with the same blank face, and she fell silent a moment. He wasn’t the tallest of people, but Naura herself was quite short, and he much towered over her. He wasn’t much of a fighter, but Naura would never lay a hand to harm him so it didn’t much matter; when he stood above her, Naura felt her heart go cold with fear. 

“What are you insinuating?” 

Averting her gaze to the side, perspiration sliding down her face, she managed to find her voice again just barely. “W-well with all due respect sir, I don’t think fighting in the arena is a proper use of my talents perhaps if you could allow me to-”

She fell silent when she noticed his breaths becoming more shallow, his face starting to turn red. Before she could apologize, he took a deep breath to calm himself, and then struck her across the face. 

The slap, delivered by the back of his hand, was not lacking in strength either, managing to knock her off balance and send her falling to the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes as she curled in on herself, too tired to try and stand or do anything else. In the arena, she could take so much damage without a care, but somehow when he struck her, it was like it doubled all her injuries. 

“What use are you to me if you cannot prove your strength?!” he demanded harshly. 

Naura was sobbing too hard to reply, and when Cassius realized this he rolled his eyes. “You’re pathetic, Naura. Guards! Escort Naura back to her quarters so she may finish her tantrum.” 

Two of his guards came and slipped their arms under her own, carefully helping her stand. One of them pursed his lips and rested a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but the gesture, while kind enough, meant nothing to her. 

Nothing meant anything to her, not when her entire reason for living amounted to nothing. She would never be able to prove herself to Cassius; of his love, she would never be worthy.


	3. Arrival

“I’ve already told you! Under no circumstances is anyone allowed to visit Lord Lucretius without an invitation!”   
  
“Yes, but perhaps you could make an exception if-”   
  
“No exceptions! The only way for uninvited guests to gain an audience with his grace is to defeat his gladiator in the arena!”   
  
Ja’far pursed his lips as he stood before the amphitheater’s guard, a most unpleasant man who had done nothing but bark at him since his arrival. He’d been foolish to think that his status would make any difference in Reim; Sindria wasn’t much recognized in small Reiman cities like these.     
  
Sighing, he smoothed the wrinkles in the apron and responded with as much patience as he could manage. “You speak of a gladiator match, what are the conditions?”  
  
The man waved him off as though it was obvious. “Eh, if you defeat the gladiator you get your audience, if you lose you leave without your dignity and never return...wouldn’t that be nice.”  
  
“Is the battle to the death?” Ja’far asked curiously, and the man shook his head.   
  
“Not for you, no, and you get to leave with your freedom intact. Pretty good deal right? Lord Lucretius changed a lot when he took over for his father, and because of it the arena was able to thrive!” the guard exclaimed with a dramatic flair.   
  
Ja’far sighed again and nodded. “Alright, I accept the conditions and challenge his gladiator in combat.”   
  
…  
  
When a sharp knock awoke Naura from her sleep, she carefully stood, using the bed for support as she regained her bearings. “Just a second!” she croaked, making her way to the door.   
  
A few days had passed since her triumph in the arena, and though she was beginning to recover from her wounds, Cassius still refused to speak to her again. He did this often enough that she recognized it at once; he thought if she could still retain her loyalty to him in his absence that she could prove her worth. She didn’t much like not being able to speak to the one person in over a decade who hadn’t been afraid of her or had disdain for her, but she did love him so she waited silently for him. He’d come and talk to her eventually, take her in his arms and steal her breath with those rough lips of his. That’s right, he did love her, didn’t he?   
  
When she opened the door, she was met not with the face of her beloved, but with a guard. Whilst there were staff and servants in the arena, none of them had ever spoken to Naura themselves. Instead, she was attended by the guards when necessary, which was usually only when she was injured from the ring or when Cassius wasn’t speaking to her himself and needed to pass on a message. She didn’t much care if the servants wouldn’t serve her, because she’d never exactly lived a life of luxury in the first place, but not ever being able to speak to someone normal made her feel a bit lonely.   
  
“Yes?” she asked the guard curiously, she hadn’t seen this man before now, so she assumed that he was new.   
  
“You’ve been summoned to the ring immediately!” the man exclaimed sharply, already making as if to leave.   
  
“Immediately? But I haven’t healed from my injuries!” she stated meekly, hands starting to tremble at the thought of what horrors she might be made to endure. Surely— surely Cassius knew she could not take on the top gladiators all together like so again, didn’t he? She wasn’t even sure that she could defeat even just one opponent, let alone twenty-six of them!  
  
“Someone is seeking an audience with your lord, it is your purpose to fight them in the ring unless you wish to report to lord Lucretius and explain why you can’t serve your purpose?”   
  
Biting her lower lip, she shook her head. “No-no, that won’t be necessary.”  
  
The man smiled. “Good. I was told to give you this.”    
   
Naura barely had time to snatch the crimson red rose he thrust into her hands before he was gone already. She looked down at it, admiring the monogrammed gold ribbon that Cassius had tied around it. Taking a breath she brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent, not for that of roses but for a trace of the man she’d been deprived of as of late.   
  
She felt calmer then, closing her eyes and hugging the little gift close to her heart. He still wanted her, he still loved her even if he’d been so furious before. Despite all the hurt that had built up, and kept multiplying over the years, she knew in her heart that she could not disobey him quite so easily. If it was for this love of hers, for the man that had given this useless life of hers meaning, things like her physical well being and the fears that held her back were nothing but meaningless obstacles she would overcome.   
  
Opening her eyes, she kissed the roses petals one by one and then set it on her bedside table to shrivel and die in the sands of time. If someone was seeking an audience with Cassius they could be dangerous, so Naura had a plan and then would engage in combat. She knew she would succeed, because she had to, but first she needed a disguise. So then, leaving all other thoughts behind, she stood and strode from the room as confidently as she could manage.    
  
Her opponent would never know what was coming, just as she hadn’t the faintest idea the magnitude of destiny’s storms a brewing. 


	4. The Rose

Ja’far hadn’t been inside a gladiator’s arena since that day he lost Sinbad to the Mariadel Company, and though he knew that a similar fate did not await him, he couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste in his mouth as he undressed from his robes and began to dawn the battle gear. He wasn’t concerned about losing the match, as he had his mind open for trickery and even superhuman ability, but the whole thing was barbaric enough that he despised the notion of taking part in it. Still, he was certain he could succeed and gain an audience with his lead, from there he could learn the whereabouts of the assassin and attempt to contact them. He wondered what kind of fate they had suffered, and where they were now, though he thought he might not be so lucky as to learn that so soon.

“Excuse me, I was told to attend to you, do you need any assistance?” A meek voice caught his attention, and Ja’far turned around and paused for a moment in surprise.

The servant girl looked normal enough, wearing simple clothing and looking plain despite her light brown skin and ash-colored hair, however, there was something not right. She had bandages wrapped around her head, covering part of her face, and from her awkward posture, he assumed they covered the majority of her small frame. Moreover, she was staring at him with wide eyes the moment he turned around, the fear trapped in her amethyst irises as unmistakable as her trembling hands.

“Who hurt you?” The question had fallen from his lips before he could think to give greeting or answer her inquiry.

Blinking in surprise, she seemed to remember the bandages and shook her head. “No-nobody did...there was an accident a few days ago...the monsters from below the arena escaped and I wasn’t fortunate enough to take refuge from them. Do you need assistance?”

“That sounds rough…” he muttered, and then as an afterthought, he nodded, not because he really needed help but he could sense that she very much wanted him to. “Yeah, that’d be a great help, thank you.”

As she helped him dawn his armor, her eyes briefly fell on the scars that went up his arms and back, and then she noticed the bright blue scales that had covered part of his chest and torso. He said nothing about them and ignored her hesitation before he spoke up again. “What do you know of my opponent? He’s the top gladiator in the arena isn’t he?”

Eyes widening slightly, she nodded. “That’s right, the alias is Aculeus, and the warrior is known for a series of triumphs and remains undefeated, most recently known for defeating twenty-five of the remaining top gladiators in one three day battle.”

“Aculeus, huh?” Ja’far was familiar with the word but couldn’t seem to remember the meaning. He managed a small smile. “Well, that certainly is impressive, though he’s no match for me.”

“I envy your confidence,” she whispered as she finished clasping his armor. Taking a step back to observe her work, she nodded in satisfaction.

“Are you often so timid? What’s your name?” Ja’far asked in curiosity, wondering just why her hands were still trembling as she thrust them into her pockets.

Averting her gaze, she nodded and gave a little sigh. “I’m afraid so...I don’t suppose you’ve ever been in love, have you? And well...I’m called Rose by those who are pleased with me.”

Ja’far shook his head, and the maiden nodded knowingly. “Thought as much, in any case, you’re better off...love hurts too much, or perhaps I’m just not made for it.”

“Hmm, I think it may be the other way around…” Ja’far frowned then and came closer to her so he could gently stroke her exposed cheek, now noticing the traces of a bruise that had begun to heal. “This bruise wasn’t from a monster, at least not one that isn’t human...who did this to you?”

Eyes widening, she took a step back, surprised that he had noticed, or perhaps surprised that he cared in the first place. “Er, well…” She hesitated a moment, but then averted her gaze again and sighed. “I’m afraid I’m useless to my Lord, I ought to try harder to gain his favor...maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Ja’far sighed himself then, and carefully wrapped his arms around her in a hug. He didn’t normally embrace strangers, but with what she’d shared with him, it seemed like an appropriate response. “I am sorry.”

When her whole frame began to shake, jaw clenching and tears began to well up in her eyes, he let go of her at once and his eyes widened in surprise. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t respond, instead wiping the tears from her eyes and bowing respectfully. “Thank you for your concern, sir, however, I must attend to my other duties.”

“I see... Will I ever see you again?” He wasn’t sure what came over him as he asked it, but he felt the need to reach out to this woman if she’d allow him, to prove that he would not hurt her like others had.

She managed a stiff smile, but she still seemed afraid. “You can count on it. Good day.”

As she left the room, Ja’far gave a little wave and spoke up again. “Oh and Rose? I’m sure you’ll find the confidence that you need soon!”

Turning, the maiden nodded. “I think you are right, after all, every Rose has its thorns.”

As she disappeared, Ja’far stared out after her in confusion. Of course, Aculeus meant thorn, but how had she known he’d been wondering about it? Come to think about it, there was something so strange about the entire encounter. Why had she been so afraid of him and why had she said that just now? He didn’t mean to seem paranoid, but whilst he’d been amused at first, he was beginning to think that was some kind of warning.

…

Changing out of her disguise and into her armor didn’t take Naura long, and soon she was plaiting her hair to the side of her head, to keep it from obscuring her vision. Glancing quickly down at her shaking hands, she tried not to cry. She’d quickly stripped all of her bandages so that they could not obstruct her movements, and now her wounds were visible for everyone to see beneath her chest plate and the belt she strapped around her hips, wide metal baltea hanging all about her curves like a skirt. She had padding on her knees and her metal shoes had straps that snaked up to her thighs. The armor was made for show, not protection, so when she was wounded it was less than ideal.

If it were anyone else she would have been alright, wounded yes, but she might have managed to defeat them. She’d recognized this man at once though, his white hair and those piercing green eyes of his, the darts that she’d seen in the corner with his clothes had only confirmed it.

She knew she hadn’t a chance against her former chief.


	5. The Thorn

  
When Ja’far entered the arena, a sword in his hand and two knives at his belt, he was shocked to find that the amphitheater was completely empty. Sure, he wasn’t so prideful as expecting to have generated a huge crowd, but completely empty? The whole thing seemed like a waste, but more than that it was suspicious. A chill breeze softly billowed his hair out behind him as he took his position and waited for his opponent.

The lack of an announcer made him wonder how long he had to wait, and he was almost expecting a trap of some kind, when suddenly his opponent emerged and his mouth fell open in surprise.

“What in the world?”

Standing before him was the woman from before, wounds exposed now and clearly not that of a passing monster.

Aculeus, as she was evidently his opponent, stood before him and trembled when the chill met her wounds. She gripped her sword with purpose and had similar knives to his own at her belt, which he found peculiar. She licked her lips and took a fighting stance, and so he did as well.

There was time for a single breath, and then she was charging at him with a speed and ferocity that he hadn’t expected, taking him by surprise as she hurled the end of her sword towards his face. He had just enough time to swing his upwards and block the blow, the shockwave of sword on sword clanging throughout the empty amphitheater and echoing all around them.

Her arms shook with the impact, but she managed not to drop the weapon.

As he took the offensive, he lunged at her and she just barely managed to dodge it. This seemed to be the beginning of the end, however, as she twisted her ankle with a crack and went flying to the ground. Before Ja’far could get his sword before her and force a surrender, however, she slid forward and wrapped her legs around his and had him in the dirt before he could catch his balance.

Swords fallen out of both their hands, Aculeus was the first to draw a knife and dive at him. Ja’far rolled out of the way immediately, taking the time to pull himself up as her knives went crashing into the dirt. The force of the attack made him begin to suspect that he might have been misled on the purpose of this battle.

Rising quicker than one should be able to with a twisted ankle, she was on the offensive again slicing towards him wildly with her knives, the action full of desperation. He easily evaded these attacks, dodging left and right as he took hasty steps backwards, managing to remain just outside of her range.

He didn’t have much time to think, but something about her speed and ferocity was nagging at him, hadn’t he been in positions like this before?

She took a misstep and stumbled backwards and he took that moment to lunge at her blade first. She just barely managed to lean out of reach before bringing her blade up to the side of his wrist, managing a shallow cut, but not forcing him to drop his weapon before she had to jump back and avoid the other.

“Stop it!” She panted, jumping back again as he went in for another attack.

Taking a step back, and wiping the sweat from his dirt-streaked face, his eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

Taking a deep breath, she regripped her twin blades and then dived forward at him. “Stop fucking toying with me!”

Ja’far didn’t have time for further questions, as she managed to catch him by surprise, pouncing before he had a chance to evade her. He leapt backwards just in time for her blade to slice into his cheek, blood flying from his face as he retreated. He managed to get his bearings then, evading her attacks and blocking the ones he couldn’t, their knives clanging against one another and echoing all around them as they stepped in circles.

The way they seemed so in sync, one attacking and the other invading seemed so familiar all of a sudden, and though he had to focus on the fight, the back of Ja’far’s mind was quickly eating away at him. There was something so similar about both their movements, the way they worked together creating what was almost a dance...or an assassin’s fighting techniques!

“You can betray my master! You can even kill my brothers!” she shouted, attacking him with more ferocity and anger than he ever could have prepared for in that moment, getting a temporary advantage. “But you will not take this love away from me!”

To his surprise, tears were welling up in her eyes then, however, they clouded her vision enough that she didn’t notice his quick step to the right and suddenly she was barreling into the open air, losing her footing and crashing to the ground. Quickly, not allowing her time to recover, he retrieved both knives and hurled them across the arena so she could not retrieve them again.

“This fight is over!” he declared boldly, panting and wiping the blood from his face. Then, with a sigh, he tossed aside his knives and held a hand out to her. “Come on, you’ll need to get yourself patched up again.”

She didn’t look up from the dirt at first but took his hand in an instant. Before he could let go, however, she stood and was launching her fist at his chest. All he saw in the moment was the bright light that blinded him, and then he was flying backwards, hitting the ground hard, the impact shooting a pain all across his body. He tried to take a breath but instead found himself rolling onto his stomach and coughing vigorously. When he saw the muddy red liquid staining the dirt, he grunted and shakily stood, looking down at his chest plate he noticed the fist-shaped dent in it and cursed.

She could use magoi manipulation.

As she charged down on him once again, both hands glowing yellow, he sighed and took a deep breath to clear his head. “I’m getting real tired of this,” he muttered and then he waited.

One moment passed and she was nearly upon him, her face red and her shoulders rising and falling with each of her strides. He felt time slow slightly as he watched her braids fly up and down, studied each staggered step she took towards him. She seemed dizzy, and it was clear from the way she sagged that she didn’t have much magoi left; he knew he could overtake her in an instant.

Once she was just a hair away from pounding her fists against him, undoubtedly unleashing an attack with what remained of her magoi, he leapt into the air and flipped, landing like a cat behind her before jumping up and turned around, stopping her momentum by latching his arm around her neck and jerking her back into his arms. She tried to crash back into him with her back, thinking of knocking him to the ground, but he held his ground. As she thrashed in his grip and struggled to breathe, he felt his heart starting to race as his instinct nagged at him.

He could just as easily break her neck, it would have been easy. She had tried to kill him, hadn’t she? Would she even stop attacking if he didn’t end it here? Wouldn’t it be better to put her out of this misery?

Taking a deep breath, Ja’far blinked slowly and shook his head. He wasn’t an assassin anymore, and he’d learnt years ago even the most miserable existence was worth something, anything. When she began to claw at his arm, panicking as he cut off her oxygen, he eased up his grip on her neck before shoving her hard into the ground.

“You’ve lost!” he exclaimed, putting emphasis on each syllable as one might do with a stubborn child, hoping to get the point across. “The fight is over now, so I suggest you stop fighting and consider your own injuries.”

There was a long moment of pure silence, but then she began to cough, blood pooling around her from her wounds and the strain using so much magoi had put on her body. Her shoulders shook as she weakly pushed herself up, her arms trembling so violently he thought they would give out again, however she managed to pull herself onto her knees.

“I…” she panted, her voice weak now, barely a whisper. “I will never stop fighting until you stop or-or you kill me.”

“I won’t kill you.” His words were ebbed in pity as he stared down at her, wondering why she couldn’t accept defeat.

She pulled herself to her feet then and taking a deep breath, her hands began to glow again, less brightly than before.

“Stop using your magoi so much, you’ll die!” he demanded, but she ignored him, focusing instead on each painful breath.

She lunged at him then, but this time she stumbled and fell into a broken heap before him, sobbing. “Please, just kill me!” She begged, shakily pulling herself up and taking a step back, starting her attack over again and diving at him. “If I cannot serve my lord I am nothing, oh Solomon I am worthless! Just fucking kill me!”

When she fell at his feet and sobbed, his eyes widened and he gazed down at her as she clung to him, begging for death. She looked so pitiful in the moment, covered in wounds both old and new, tears and snot dripping from her face, her whole frame shaking.

“I..”

He didn’t even know what to say, how to help this poor woman, wanting to comfort the one who had just tried to kill him but not knowing how yet.

“I-I can’t face him now...I-I’ve nothing to live for without him, I’m begging you to kill me!” she sobbed, not daring to look up at him.

Sighing, he knelt before her and loosely embraced her. “I’m sorry,” was all he said, and then he took a deep breath and brought his elbow into the back of her neck.

When she fell unconscious, he stopped her from hitting the ground and lifted her into his arms. He stared down at her dirt-streaked face and frowned; it was such a shame, she had seemed like such a kind girl, if only she hadn’t suffered the same fate as he, they could have met somewhere happy.

The first thing he did was carry her to the nearest medic, and then he announced his victory to the guard from before. Then he prepared for his audience with lord Lucretius because now he was furious and he had a lot of questions that needed answering.

 


	6. Departure

 

An hour and a half later found Ja’far rested and scrubbed clean, back in his robes, and waiting outside the door of what appeared to be Lord Lucretius’ self-proclaimed throne room. He could just barely hear the man’s voice through the thick doors that were guarded by a stern looking soldier that kept eyeing him suspiciously.

When they heard a crash from inside, Ja’far frowned and stared at the door, and the guard managed a nervous half smile. “Lord Lucretius said he’d see you once he was finished speaking with someone, don’t worry, he just tends to get very uh...what’s the word…?”

“Violent?” Ja’far suggested, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“No, no! Not that, I was going to say lively!”

When there was another loud crash, the unmistakable sound of a breaking dish and a loud clang, followed by someone crying out, the guard glanced back at the door anxiously. “W-well….maybe just-just one peek to make sure he’s safe is okay…”

When the man gently pulled the door open and Ja’far got a look inside, his face fell. Across the room, the woman from before was back, covered in bandages again and cowering on the floor, hands over her head to shield herself from the metal tray Cassius was hitting her with. At first, he thought she was bleeding, but then in less than a second he realized she was covered in wine that had been thrown at her, a broken bottle a few steps away from her.

“Please my lord- I...I tried so hard!” she exclaimed meekly, shaking so hard it could be seen from where Ja’far stood.

“Shut up you useless cretin!” He shouted, hitting her again. “The ONE thing I ask of you, and you fail me?! What are you even good for then? Why were you even born if you’re going to be such a pathetic waste of time and money?!”

“I’m sorry!”

Ja’far pursed his lips, his hand twitching as he resisted his instincts for the second time that day. If there hadn’t been guards around to see, and if his identity as Sindria’s royal vizier weren’t known already, he would not have hesitated a moment in slaughtering this man.

“Lord Lucretius!” he exclaimed boldly, stepping past the guards, who watched him with evident suspicion, and stopping at the steps that led to the throne. “I am Ja’far of Sindria, and you have some information that I need!”

Cassius stopped hitting his servant as Ja’far drew closer, eyes narrowing. “What information?”

Ja’far crossed his arms and steeled his gaze, not daring to glance at his former opponent just yet, but hoping his presence would be enough to give her a few moments reprieve. “Your father had dealings with Shaka, the head of the assassin guild Sham Lash, and one of Parthevia’s Heavenly Generals. I demand that you explain to me at once the details of your father’s betrayal, and the arrangement he made to acquire one of Sham Lash’s assassins to protect him, at once. I assure you it is of utmost importance for all our countries, and to me personally.”

When he spoke Shaka’s name, he noticed a shrill little squeak coming from the woman, but he continued to glare into Cassius’ eyes. Cassius himself was a rather hideous sight to behold, he was thin and pale, his dark brown hair was wispy and so oily the glint could be seen from several feet away. He wore bright red and dark crimson clothes, to flaunt his wealth evidently, however they only made him look like a corpse all dressed up for its funeral.

Oh, how Ja’far would have loved to make that impression of his a reality.

“I know nothing of the sort!” he exclaimed, an odd catch in his voice. “How dare you accuse my family of treason and deceit! You ought to be begging my forgiveness, such impudence!”

“So you mean to say you just happened to have one of his assassins in your arena by accident then?” Ja’far asked flatly, raising an eyebrow in the assassin’s direction.

She had finished picking up all the glass and putting it into a little pile on the floor, wiping up the wine with her apron, and was now sitting anxiously on her knees just beside her lord’s throne. At his question, she squirmed uncomfortably and stared at the floor.

“What nonsense accusations are these?!” Cassius scoffed. “My servant is no assassin, Rose and I are childhood friends!”

“Can you confirm that, Rose?” Ja’far asked, turning to her.

“I-” She hesitated a moment, and opened her mouth to speak again only to wince and shut her mouth. Cassius had reached over and gripped her hair, his hand shaking with the effort of pulling it. Taking a sharp breath, and staring at the floor again, she hung her head and nodded, speaking up meekly. “Y-yes! It’s true…”

Realizing he was getting nothing this way, Ja’ar turned to the former assassin, holding his arm out towards her. “And is this how someone treats their friends, Rose? By forcing them to fight in the ring, and then punishing them for it?” Resting a hand at his hip, he resisted a frown. “I think it’s about time you be given a little decency.”

“This is ridiculous! You cannot possibly think-”

“Shut up!” Ja’far shouted, clenching both his fists and taking a few steps forward so that he bore down on the fool before him. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Cassius went even paler than usual and bit his tongue.

After a minute of tense silence, he heard the woman stand and looked over to see her running down the stairs. Because she was still weak from the fight, however, her knees gave out and she went flying down the steps. Forgetting Cassius, he dived forward and caught her before she could hit the floor, pulling her safely into his arms and looking down at her tear streaked face. “What do you say we leave this place, huh?”

“N-no!” She tried to push him away with her bandaged hand, letting it fall again and curling in on herself in fear. “Stay away from me!”

Sighing, Ja’far nodded and set her back down, however, he still had an arm around her for support. “Alright, but first I need to speak with you in private.” Looking to the guards he nodded. “I presume I needn’t duel anyone for an audience with miss Rose?”

The guards looked at each other anxiously, but then Cassius found his voice and spoke up again. “I forbid it! That hag still has to face her punishment for failing me in the ring!”

Her knees buckled, and she fell into him then, shaking her head in fear. Sighing, he scooped her up into his arms and shook his head. “Umm no, no she doesn’t. I’ll be leaving now, thank you for your time, it’s been a pain.”

The guards, not knowing what else to do, parted before him and allowed him to leave. She trembled in his arms, peeking past his shoulder back at her lord. “Wait I-I have to go back! I can’t just-”

Ja’far shook his head, frowning. “I can’t let them hurt you anymore, forgive me.”

Cassius watched them leave in silence, but no sooner than they made it down the steps and to the main hall did they hear shouting from above them, and the clamoring of armor against the steps.

“That man and his accomplice are thieves! You’re to detain them immediately!”

“That’s it, we’re dead. We’re both fucking dead.”

“Hey now, calm yourself,” Ja’far said with a small smile, glancing towards the window next to him; the view was lovely and there were banners hanging from a thick chord within reach. “How well do you trust me?”

Following his gaze to the open window besides them, a story up but big enough to leap through, she gaped. “Absolutely not!”

“Hm...we’ll have to work on that then,” he mused as guards began to come up the steps, even more attempting to flank them. Without a second thought, he stooped and dropped her carefully on his back, waiting until she had wrapped her arms anxiously about his neck. “Hold on tight!”

There was time for a single breath before he dived out the window, and then a moment later they were falling. He knew he ought to have felt somber, focused, and just moments before he had been, but the lurch in his stomach and the wind blowing his hair back brought a faint smile to his face before he even knew what was happening.

Evidently, there was a small part of his heart that remained from when he was a kid.

Before they could fall too far, Ja’far locked his arms onto the chord and felt as it dug into his sleeves. No sooner did he have it in his grasps, did it began to sag against their weight, and then in a moment as he had expected the side closest to them came loose and they were swinging towards the ground.

Behind him, his friend tightened her grip around him, burying her face into his shoulder, and it occurred to him that she was not feeling the same nostalgia as he. He wondered what she must be thinking, he knew she was scared, but besides that, he knew so little about her. Why was she so afraid of him? What had her life been like before to lead her to such an awful place as this?

All too soon they both hit the ground with a thud, falling off of each other in opposite directions, and at the impact, he remembered he wasn’t as light as he used to be, nor as youthful, and was starting to regret the abrupt exit as his back began to ache. He had no time to complain about this, however, because he could already hear the soldiers pouring out into the street.

“They never quit, do they?” he muttered, standing and then stopping to help her to her feet. She glared at him and opened her mouth to scold him, but then they heard the guards shouting as they took notice of them.

“There'll be time for that later, come on!” Grabbing her wrist, they took off running.

He noticed that she took one last look at the arena, her face red with anguish at losing the only place she must have known in decades, and had to resist a frown of his own. He didn’t know what her past had been, or if he could gain her trust, but he knew one thing for sure; he wasn’t going to rest until she could be happy.

 


End file.
